The Clock
by HideBehindASmile72
Summary: Drawing influence from the likes of Agatha Christie, "The Clock" is a mystery/horror story about a group of guests invited to a cabin who mysteriously end up dead; one by one.


Chapter 1

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Melanie Alexander asks her husband, Tremain.

"Positive," he replies sternly, staring straight ahead through the windshield at the worn road before them.

"Well, I still don't think this is such a brilliant idea," she says as she seems to take an intense interest in the trees flying by. "After all, you barely even know this guy! Who's to say he even shows up himself?"

Secretly, Melanie actually thought it was a God-sent vacation personally to them. As a pharmacist and doctor duo, their days off rarely coincide, leaving them with hardly any time together. Despite this, they liked to think that their marriage was just as strong as it had ever been. Unfortunately for them, long working hours also resulted in less time spent with their two children, Ryan and Lacey.

"Quit being so paranoid Mel!" he says with a chuckle. "You know that Damon and I were good buddies from college!"

"That's what scares me!" she says with a giggle. "I'm not sure I want to know what you two did back in those days!"

"Actually, he wasn't like most of the frat idiots on campus." Tremain says. "He was quite different, strange even. While most of the guys were out getting drunk and hooking up with the intoxicated girls at parties, he locked himself in his room almost every night. He always had his face in a book or headphones in his ears. The only time he ever left the room save for classes was for zombie movie marathons and chicken wings down the hall at a couple of guys' room. Any other time I attempted to get him out of our dorm it was a vane effort. He made me seem like a crazy, drunken party ani-."

"Oh, don't pretend that you were worthy of a halo!" Melanie interrupts. "Shall I remind you of your nicknames from those days?"

"I'll have to pass on that one." Tremain says with a chuckle. "Though some of them aren't too horribly bad…"

"From what you've told me, I think they're best forgotten," she replies, grinning from ear to ear.

Melanie starts to laugh, and Tremain can't help but surrender and join her. The two continue to laugh as they exchange stories taking them both down memory lane.

"Slow down, you idiot!" yells Leon Castillo at the driver, Landon Guthrie. Leon is crammed in the back of a rusty truck with two other sweaty, reeking guys. He doesn't care much for any of his fellow passengers. In particular, Levi Harwood and Landon, who he feels still haven't let go of the past and grown up. With his iPod blasting in his ears, he attempts to ignore them; tries to shut out the world as a whole.

"Oh shut up, you pansy!" Landon retorts as he reaches back to smack Leon in the shoulder. "You need to learn to live a little; maybe you might finally get a few chicks then!"

Leon has a hard time blocking Landon out and has to refrain from punching him straight in the jaw. Though it may be their age difference of ten years, sparks are continuously flying between the two whenever they are within a few feet of each other. Levi enjoys their juvenile antics, and often encourages them to rip each other's throats out, while Ewan Navarro, their other friend, always steps in as a voice of reason when he sees things get out of hand, (which they often do).

Wanting to avoid yet another physical confrontation, Ewan attempts to quickly change the subject. As usual, he talks about the latest music releases and upcoming tour dates. Levi and Landon, huge rap fans, very rarely have a clue what he's talking about, so they choose to ignore his ramblings about "guitar gods" and "epic drum solos." Leon, however, understands Ewan's music discussions and whole-heartedly enjoys them; a huge progressive rock fan himself.

Landon Guthrie isn't just your typical husky, egotistical, college jock. Rather, Landon is a husky, egotistical, college jock with a vicious temper. As a twenty-two year college graduate, he's managed to keep every aspect of his frat boy persona that most leave behind after graduation as they develop a career and family.

Enter Landon Guthrie; just graduated, obnoxious, arrogant, and unemployed with no desire to search for a career. He got accepted into a university on a sports scholarship and decided to study automotive mechanics, as it seemed easy enough to him. A few months after pomp and circumstance plays, its August, he's in a van on the way to a cabin with three other guys he can barely tolerate, and he has to pee.

While blasting the latest Eminem song through his worn speakers and claiming that he "nailed" the rap, Landon eyes the passing scenery with the hope that they'll encounter a gas station or restaurant to stop at. A mere twenty seconds later, he yells, "screw this!" and abruptly swerves off the side of the road.

"What the hell man!" hollers Levi as he massages the top of his head. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I've gotta take a whizz dude!" Landon snaps back at him. "You see any damn gas stations around?"

"Whatever, just go!" Levi says as he rolls his eyes. "Just know that I'll blame you for global warming or something for the rest of your life!"

Landon gets out of the truck and walks over to a nearby tree. As he unzips his pants and begins to empty his bladder all over a nearby evergreen, he turns back toward the truck. Knowing that the other three don't approve of his makeshift toilet, he sticks his tongue out at them and puts up his middle finger with his free hand and laughs obnoxiously.

"Wow, he's cool…" mutters Leon as he turns his attention to a notebook on his lap. As a journalist, Leon jumps at the opportunity to have a pen and notepad at hand to work on his novel or jot down short story ideas. For as long as he can remember, he's always had a passion for writing, whether it was in the form of poetry or a well-researched article for the newspaper he works for.

Despite working with people all the time with interviews for articles or just communication with his co-workers, he isn't a people-person by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, a glance at his private journal would reveal that he pretty much hates people and is very opinionated about society. Though many people write him off as odd or just plain weird, he reassures himself that he just embraces his individuality and wouldn't change himself for anyone or anything.

Choosing to ignore Landon's antics, (much to his annoyance) Ewan decides to get his own iPod out to entertain himself with some _real_ music. Levi gives him a strange look as he begins to sing the intro to a song by some rock band that he's sure he's never heard of and probably wouldn't care about. As usual, Ewan gets really into the song and forgets that anyone else is in the truck with him.

Parallel to Leon's writing passion, Ewan grew up listening to classic rock and is now completely dedicated to music. During high school, he formed "Toxygen," a mediocre rock band with three of his buddies. The singer's ego, (and girlfriend) got in the way, and "Toxygen" broke up before they even became known out-of-town. During his college years, Ewan met other classic metal enthusiasts and formed a new band, "Melancholy Current." A few local gigs later, his new band is signed to a record label, thus fueling his wildest dream of rock stardom. Until his career _really_ takes off and they're playing stadium gigs, Ewan maintains a job as a bartender at a local bar where his band regularly plays.

"Who cares about global warming? Trees end up as paper anyway!" Landon arrogantly hollers to Leon, Levi, and Ewan.

"Is he really _that_ stupid?" Leon questions as he shakes his head. The other two guys nod in agreement. They're all pretty much used to idiotic remarks like that and have learned to just laugh at his comments. They return to ignoring Landon until suddenly they hear a piercing scream from the woods that could just as well have come from a dying animal. They quickly swivel their heads to the right to see what could cause such an ungodly noise. They begin to laugh hysterically when they spot Landon racing toward the truck; pants at his ankles and causing him to trip every few steps. The truck is filled with deafening laughter as he gets closer and closer.

"Oh…my God…what….the hell…it's…dead…blood…oh God!" he shrieks between heavy breaths causing the laughter to abruptly die down. "I…holy…my God!"

"Very funny Landon! You really got us going!" hollers Levi out the window. "You're only making yourself look stupid, but I'm not going to complain!" As Landon finally reaches the truck, he rips open the driver's side door and jumps into the car as though he were attempting to escape from a hungry bear.

"For the love of God, I'm dead serious damn it!" screams Landon as he attempts to catch his breath.

"What the hell is your problem?" Ewan asks rapidly; now somewhat panicked.

"There's a God damn body behind the tree, you guys! There's blood everywhere!" he finally manages to holler behind fear.

"This is incredibly foolish!" complains Veronica Galloway. "Why are we going to this young punk's cabin anyway?"

The driver of the shiny blue Cadillac, Noah Hendricks, laughs and replies, "The man is thirty-eight you old bat!"

"Honey, when you get up to my age _everyone_ is a little punk!" she says in a venomous yet sweet tone. "You have to remember, my dear, that I'm-"

"Yeah yeah," he mutters with rolling eyes. "You're sixty-four years old, retired, and widowed. I know the speech. For your information, some of us are only forty-two and are allowed to have not-young thirty-eight year old not-punks for friends!" He glances at her quickly to see her reaction and smiles with a polite chuckle. "What ever happened to that old saying?"

"What?" she asks, "respect your elders?" she says with a slight giggle while lightly and playfully tapping his shoulder.

"No," he answers, "the one that says that age ain't nothing but a number." He doesn't seem all that amused by her comment.

"Well, first of all, that's a double negative." She informs him in a serious tone to rival his.

"A _what_?" he asks; puzzled.

"Never mind," she replies distantly. "You're right though," age _is_ only a number." With half of a grin across her face, she glances at Noah and sighs before quickly turning her attention out the window.

The year is 1983. Twenty-six first graders are seated on the hideous purplish-red carpet anxiously waiting for story time. With spring quickly approaching, many of the kids are dressed in shorts and a short-sleeve shirt to combat the oncoming heat. One particular student sitting in the corner stands out to the teacher who watches him from the center of the circle.

He's dressed in a dirt-covered and torn hand-me-down shirt and holey pants with the legs cut off unevenly to create a makeshift pair of shorts. He seems rather sad and lonely in the teacher's eyes while the other kids chatter with excitement. His mousy brown hair is tousled and unkempt as though it had never met the teeth of a comb. Worst of all though, is the large, blatant, black and blue patch on the side of his face. He's told her that he simply fell and bumped his hand on a nightstand. _That must be the innocent truth, right?_

With a brightly colored book in each hand, the teacher asks her students which one is their favorite.

"That one Miss Galloway!" yell the kids excitedly in unison as they all point toward a Scooby-Doo book. The lonely boy in the corner remains silent.

As the teacher reads the story while displaying emotions to fit the book's mood, she can't help but repeatedly glance at the boy disheveled boy sitting all alone. She feels his pain. She also had a rather rough upbringing due to her alcoholic mother and her aggressive stepfather, but can only imagine the hell he must endure after school gets out.

_I wish there was something I could do,_ she thinks to herself. _Oh God, that poor boy! God have mercy on that poor boy's soul! Oh my God, there's nothing I can do to have that poor, defenseless little boy!_

She begins to shake for reasons unknown to herself. Pity, grief, or maybe even… guilt? _No surely not! _She reassures herself mentally. _I've done nothing wrong! Have I…?_

"I've got to do something!" she yells out. "That poor child… God have mercy… he needs me… I haven't done anything wrong… God help him… help me… no, no, NO!"

"Veronica!" yells Noah. "Veronica! Come on, snap out of it already!"

"It wasn't! I didn't….no!" she screams. She's back in Noah's car again. Sweat flows like a waterfall from every inch of her wrinkled skin.

"What the hell was that all about?" Noah hollers though quick breaths. "You damn near gave me a heart attack just then! Silence for ten minutes and then suddenly you're hollering like a crazy woman about some imaginary boy! What the _hell_ Veronica?"

Veronica sits dead still in her sweat-soaked seat and completely tunes Noah out. She's not sure herself what just happened. It seemed so much like reality…

"What the hell!" he hollers again. "You're pale as a ghost" he continues rambling.

_It seemed way too real to be a fantasy, _she thinks to herself, _but here I am, twenty-seven years later in my friend's car, drenched in sweat and as stiff as a board with fear. Where does the fantasy end and the reality begin?_

"Do you know how much I love you?" Rafe Gallagher asks his wife, Casey.

"Oh, I think I can assume your love for me burns with the intensity of a thousand suns; or something like that!" she replies with a grin.

"Hey now, leave the lame, corny, cliché love lines to me!" Rafe says with a chuckle. "I was actually thinking that I love you so much that if I were to rearrange the alphabet for my own personal benefit, I would put "U" and "I" together.

"Let me guess, "U" would be before "I?" she says to add to his line.

"Exactly!" Rafe replies with a laugh. "I'll always put "U" before "I" because I love you so much!"

Suddenly, Casey is suspiciously silent and doesn't make a quirky remark back.

"Honey, what's wrong? Rafe asks, fearing the worst. He turns to glance at her carefully as he keeps his hands one the steering wheel. "Whoa, you don't look so great babe; you feeling okay?"

"What? Oh yeah, I'm fine," she replies distantly. "I don't know what that was; just an odd feeling in my stomach out of nowhere…"

"You need some Tylenol or something?" he asks with concern.

"No," she answers quickly and unyielding.

"Oh, okay…" he murmurs alarmingly. It wasn't like Casey to act so strange seemingly out of nowhere.

"Why the hell did he have to say it that way?" Casey mumbles almost subconsciously.

"Say what?" Rafe responds; now confused.

"Nothing, just keep driving! My God…" she retorts in an irritated and bitter tone.

"Whatever…" he snaps as he rolls his eyes. He wonders how their conversation could have taken such a dramatic turn from romantic to angry at such short notice. After all, he hadn't said anything to offend her, had he?

_Why the hell did he have to say it that way?_

What the hell did she mean by that? What had he said that was so terribly appalling? Despite the love clichés just a few minutes ago, Rafe felt further away from Casey than he had ever felt before.

With the intention of forgetting about their lovers' quarrel, Rafe begins to daydream about his college years where he met Damon, their host for the weekend.

Rafe had thoroughly enjoyed his time at university and tried to make the best of his time there. He had discovered an innate ability with numbers in high school which had set his whole life into perspective. He was going to be an accountant or something of the sort, and he would enjoy his success with a beautiful wife and kids after he climbed as high as he could on the achievement ladder. He was awarded enough scholarship money based on his flawless high school marks and countless hours of volunteer work to pay for his entire tuition, which only fueled his drive to succeed. With his impressive record, he could have attended just about any university he wanted to.

After finally deciding on a school and effortlessly being accepted, Rafe was forced to adjust to the dorm lifestyle. He lived just down the hall from Damon Levine, whose roommate, Tremain Alexander, also came to be a good friend of Rafe. His roommate, Blaine Phillips, was one of his best friends during their studies. They shared a similar taste in music, food, and even women. Anyone in their dorm building would have labeled them as inseparable buddies.

Unfortunately, Rafe and Blaine abruptly lost contact and haven't spoken since. Damon, on the other hand, had e-mailed Rafe a few months ago, which prompted on-going internet conversations between the two. It was a refreshing escape from the events of the day, though for some reason he never mentioned the conversations to Casey. One exchange had stayed in Rafe's mind ever since Damon had brought it up a few weeks previous.

Like any other weeknight, Damon and Tremain had gone over to Blaine and Rafe's room for a beer night complete with zombie flicks and chicken wings. It was just like any other Saturday night, save for one detail; Blaine wasn't with them. He had left a note for Rafe while he was in class telling him that he had something to attend to and wouldn't be home in time for zombie night. Rafe shrugged it off and proceeded to invite Tremain and Damon over anyway.

A few hours after "_Dawn of the Dead"_ had ended and the wing supply had been depleted, Blaine came through the door with an incredibly gorgeous girl on his arm. Rather than get upset that he had blown them off for a girl that was most likely a one night stand, Rafe faked a smile as Blaine and the girl walked past him toward Blaine's unkempt room. Without feeling guilty for keeping his eyes on the girl, Rafe was upset by Blaine's silence and decided to just go to bed.

A few weeks later, Rafe was surprised when he entered their dorm room and discovered that it was half-empty. A quickly-scribbled note sat on the table in Blaine's distinguishable scrawled handwriting. Each word that he read was like an icicle piercing his heart as he learned that his best friend had hastily decided to drop out of university to go live in Indiana.

_Why Indiana? He has no family to turn to and he was only a few months off of getting his degree…_

At the time, Rafe was devastated and genuinely disappointed in such a rash decision without confronting the issue with him first. Despite this disappointment, he had surprisingly never gotten involved in Blaine's personal issues, so he wondered if it was possibly his own fault. After all, Blaine wasn't exactly the type of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve and blurt out his deepest thoughts and feelings to anyone, even his own roommate and friend.

It always ate Rafe alive not knowing what had made his best friend drop out so suddenly without as much as a warning…


End file.
